


Death of a Hero

by LauraEMoriarty



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/pseuds/LauraEMoriarty





	Death of a Hero

Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once.

\- William Shakespeare; Julius Caesar

 

In his final moments, the Grey Warden Commander knew his choices: die horrendously from his wounds, or shield the body of the young king slain so cruelly. It was an ugly choice to make, and in his dying moments, his actions would be remembered. Was it better to die a hero's death, shielding the king who had believed so fervently in the might of the Grey Wardens, or to live with the horror that had been the battle before them? It wasn't a question of honour so much as one that he knew to be the right choice. There was little hope that King Cailan still drew breath, as he had seen the ogre crush the king like one crushed a piece of lyrium ore.

 

He knew he was dying: the wound he had taken was too deep to not be his death wound. It had pierced his liver, and he knew the pain and the Taint would not spare him much longer. A Grey Warden went to his death in every battle against the darkspawn; every battle could be the last. Duncan knew, lying there watching the signal fire flare up, that there had been a mistake-- that they should have waited for the Wardens in Orlais to join them. Teryn Loghain had, in the moments when his men should have charged the darkspawn lines, withdrawn his troops, and caused tragedy in his actions. He didn't blame the Teryn. Duncan accepted that Loghain had driven the Orlesian Empire out of Ferelden, and thought that allowing them back into the land he had shed blood for would only allow them another chance at conquering Ferelden. But he had forgotten that Grey Wardens, regardless of their nationality, cared for one thing and one thing alone: stemming the tide of the darkspawn.

 

As the darkspawn drove at the army assembled at Ostagar, the remaining Grey Wardens, Mabari war hounds and Ferelden infantry gave their best. Unfortunately for them, Duncan understood, it would not end well. He crawled painfully, each breath burning, towards where King Cailan's body lay prone, bloodied and crushed. Given the choice once more, Duncan chose the only thing that made sense: he threw himself over Cailan, protecting the young, valiant king, enthralled and enchanted by the legends of Duncan's order. It was honourable—noble even—to shield the crushed body of the king. What vain hope that King Cailan yet lived died with every painful inch Duncan crawled, each one more painful than the last. Looking up once again at the signal fire in the tower, he wondered just what treachery awaited the two young Wardens he had sent there by order of the king. Would Alistair yet live? And what of the young Cousland woman? Would she perish, the last of the Cousland line? What of the Therin bloodline—the one he had strived so hard to protect—would it survive? These questions, as he lay there on the battlefield, cradling Cailan’s broken body, plagued him in his final moments. As the blood seeped into his robes—most of it his own by now—Duncan wondered whether Ostagar would go down as the worst defeat since the beginning of the Blights.

 

When death finally arrived, it was in the form of a Hurlock general. He died, cradling the body of a king.

It was an end worthy of remembering.


End file.
